


The Letter Box

by LilyK



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie and Doyle start to fall in love through the letters they're exchanging when they discover something very unusual and seemingly impossibly is happening to them. Slowly they discover that time means nothing when two people are destined to be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Letter Box

\-------------------------------

January, 1978

Ray Doyle stood on the pavement in front of the huge Victorian house that loomed before him. He cast his gaze over it, drinking in each and every detail of the edifice. Some might call it ugly, but Doyle loved the place, every tile, every board, every nook and cranny. He loved the clanking plumbing and the creaking steps. He loved the coloured-glass window on the stair landing and he loved the chain-pull toilet. This building had spoken to him several years ago when he needed a place of his own, and he'd answered its seductive siren's call. Sadly, now he was leaving.

For some inexplicable reason, his heart hurt.

"Christ, it's only a house," Doyle berated himself aloud. Yet there was something...

Doyle shook off the fanciful feeling and glanced down at the envelope in his hand. With a soft snort and a shake of his head, he almost laughed at his own forgetfulness. Moving quickly, he trotted back up the steps and slipped the envelope inside the decorative old letter box affixed to the wall beside the front door, making sure that the edge stuck out so that the new tenant could see it. He stood and stared at the bit of white that made a swatch against the black of the old cast iron and touched the paper with the tip of his index finger. He hoped the new tenant saw his note since people were used to getting their post pushed through the letter slot on their doors. His old box was unusual but he loved it since it was part of the house.

"Get on with it." Doyle snickered softly. "You've got a fair bit to drive in this traffic and then some unpacking before you can get a bite and a kip. Then it's back on duty in the morning." Glancing around to be sure that nobody saw him rabbiting on to himself, he rolled his eyes. "You're about as daft as they come. Better straighten up. Can't make a good copper being a nutter." Then, he chuckled. "It's what you want to do with your life, and the drive across town every day is a bugger. This will be better! You'll be closer to your job, save money on petrol... Be happy, all right? Moving is the best thing." He wondered why he was yet again trying to convince himself that this move was a good idea when he knew it was! With a mental shake, he squared his shoulders. "Right. Time to go."

The melancholy lifted and Doyle turned away from his former beloved home. At the edge of the tarmac, he turned once and after a final parting glance at the house, he climbed in to his Ford Escort. He heard a small sound from the back seat. Turning, he met large green eyes that looked at him anxiously.

"We're off to a new home, Your Majesty."

From inside the small wire enclosure that was securely wedged on the seat between two packing cartons, the cat again meowed forlornly. He put his fingers through the wire and scratched his pet on the head.

"Shh, it will be all right. We'll both be fine. You'll like our new place. Plenty of mice to chase." With a parting smile at the cat, he drove off. Still, a piece of himself stayed behind, but the old house deserved something after the comfort she'd given him when he most needed it. He was at peace, and suddenly looked forward to his new adventure.

\----------------------------------

April, 1976

Bodie hefted the last of the boxes from the Capri's boot to his hip and climbed the front steps yet again. He almost groaned when his thigh muscles protested the strain. How many trips had he made today? Ten? Twenty?

Sodding CI5. Cowley had adamantly refused the extra fees to move Bodie's extensive book collection so he had to make do with his own labours. Served him right for becoming such a pack rat these past years. Too late now, the move was almost finished. He vowed to clear out the items he no longer needed or used before his next move. Then he'd be under the limit for Cowley's penny-pinching ways. Christ, the only reason he'd been assigned this monstrosity of a house was because Cowley had somehow wangled it at no cost after an op where CI5 had managed to keep MI6's worthless agents' arses out of yet another huge foul-up.

Not that Bodie knew the details. Cowley kept things close to his chest. One of the old man's favourite things to say when he asked too many questions was, "What's that to you, Bodie?" He chuckled, hearing his controller's voice in his head. God, he needed a holiday if he was hearing Cowley even on his off hours.

Bodie pushed open the door with his backside. As he walked backwards through the opening, he saw something sticking up from the old letter box mounted beside the front door. Strange, that, since most places got their post through the door slot.

Turning, he sat the cartons on the black and white marble floor and went out on to the step. After he'd extracted the envelope, he turned the white rectangle over several times. On the front, written in large block letters, it read, _New Tenant! Please Read._

"New tenant?" Bodie muttered. "I'm the latest tenant, but this bloody house's been empty for what? At least two years?" To confirm his thought, he sneezed twice in quick succession. "Dust gets right up me hooter." He tapped the envelope on its edge before he ripped a strip from it. Then he pulled out the single piece of plain white paper and read the contents.

 _"Dear Tenant: Consider yourself lucky moving in to this house. It's bloody marvellous. I've spent three happy years here. Treat her well and in exchange, she'll be kind to you, providing shelter and comfort."_

Bodie laughed dryly. "You haven't seen the mice that have moved in to the parlour, have you? Nor that great bleedin' spider I killed in the bath earlier today. Not to mention enough dust covering everything to write a bloody novel on."

He read further. _"I'm uncomfortable asking a favour of someone I don't know, but I'm expecting some rather important letters and the postal service on this street is sometimes spotty. The old gent's been delivering going on forty years, so don't get on him if he happens to deliver anything that should have been redirected on to me. Would you do me the great favour of redirecting any letters then? I will, of course, be eternally in your debt. Best, Ray Doyle. P.S. Sorry about the cat hair. I tried my best to sweep it up, but she sheds terribly. Here's hoping you're not allergic!"_

Bodie scrubbed at his nose as he read the address printed under the signature. Apparently, Ray Doyle had moved a ways away and wanted his post. But that had to be two years ago, yet the envelope was as crisp and clean as if this Doyle bloke had put it in the letter box yesterday. Cat hair? He knew no one had lived in this old house for a good while. There wasn't much cat hair to be seen with all the dust covering every surface. Still confused, Bodie shrugged and jammed the letter in to his jacket pocket, immediately forgetting about it as he returned inside and delved in to his duties of getting his house in order.

\---------------------------

February 14, 1978

Grateful to be off duty for the day, Ray Doyle found a quiet park bench and sat down, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles. He let out a sigh of pleasure at the unusual, warm spring-like day in London and opened the book he'd brought with him. The day was too beautiful to waste so he'd decided to spend an hour or two after his shift and sit. Sit and read, with the sun warming his body, and the sounds of children playing and birds chirping as background music.

He'd read for about a half an hour when his partner ambled through the small park that was located on their regular beat and sat down beside him.

"Beautiful day." Doyle glanced up and gave his partner a welcoming smile.

"Quite." His companion nodded and lounged back, closing his eyes.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Doyle said, "Flower seller's doing a brisk business."

"Valentine's Day, Ray."

"Eh?" Doyle blinked. "Oh, right. Going to buy the wife a posy, Syd?" He gave his partner a grin. "She'd love some of those roses, I'm sure."

Syd smiled. "'Course! Wouldn't do to make Eleanor unhappy."

Doyle nodded sagely. "Nope, wouldn't do at all. Nice day, though."

"Sunny, but there's still a good nip in the air."

Doyle sighed contentedly and leaned back, watchful eyes scanning the street. Even off duty, he couldn't completely turn off his copper instincts. He mentally noted the people out buying what they needed for the day. Several rough-n-readies wearing leather jackets with chains on their sleeves lounged at the other end of the small square, but they ignored the two men, and smoked fags, one after the other as they talked in low voices.

Traffic was brisk at mid-day around the park and the vehicles honked at each other in annoyance as they tried to hurry on their way.

Still, it was a pretty day, sunny and clear, with a crisp tang to the air. A few women with small children wandered the park, getting their daily exercise. One lady walked two fluffy brown dogs. Poms, Doyle realised. Preferred cats, but still, a dog was a good companion.

"What's on for tonight, then?"

"Takin' Eleanor out for a meal. After, the pictures."

"Nice." Doyle returned to his book.

"Quite the picture on that cover."

"It's a good book!"

"Fanciful stuff, it seems."

"That's why I read it. Need a break from all of this," Doyle said, waving the book to encompass the entire city. "Have you read it?"

"The Hobbit? Not hardly. Read the racing page, and that's about my limit." Syd laughed, and Doyle joined in.

"There and back again," Doyle quoted. "Some day I'll be doing something exciting."

"You don't find being a copper and walking a beat on this manor exciting?"

Doyle cast Parker a toothy grin. "With you, mate, it's exciting."

"Get off," Syd groused, yet Doyle could see the pleasure in Syd's eyes.

They got on grandly, and Doyle considered Syd his mentor. Not that he'd tell the man that. Syd would be embarrassed, and Doyle would never put his friend in that position. So he quietly learned all he could from his partner, and as their time together moved on, they'd become good friends as well. He was satisfied that his decision to move closer to work had been the right choice. They could spend some time together outside of the job, and Doyle enjoyed Syd's company.

Syd rose. "Best be off, then."

Doyle didn't look up from his book. "Have a good evening. Give Eleanor a kiss from me."

"Not likely. You're much too young and pretty to be giving my Eleanor kisses, even if I'm doing the carrying."

With a chuckle, Doyle waved a hand. "Go on with you, you mad bastard."

Suddenly the squeal of tyres on pavement and the blaring of horns brought Doyle's head up sharply, and then the sounds were almost immediately followed by the sickening thud of a body being hit by a bus as it skidded to a halt. Doyle was up and running towards the street instantly, yelling at Syd to call an ambulance.

Doyle shouted to the onlookers to stay back as he raced on to the street. He fell to his knees beside the prone man. Face down, the man didn't move and Doyle pressed shaking fingers against the side of his neck. Even as he found the weak pulse, he felt it slow and then stop. He'd never before touched somebody as they'd died. He squeezed his eyes shut and after a quick steeling breath, he searched again for a pulse, but no beat of life thrummed against his fingers. With a grimace, he sat back on his heels and sighed. He scrubbed at his face and slowly rose, glancing down. Brown cord jacket, black trousers. Silver wrist watch. Something else-- Doyle leaned over and gingerly moved away the jacket.

Gun?

"Stay back!" he called out to several people who'd crept closer. "Syd!"

"Ambulance is on its way."

"No need."

"Too bad."

"He's wearing a gun," Doyle said, leaning closer to his partner.

"Blimey. Maybe God took care of this himself. Got rid of some scum of the Earth maybe?"

"Or maybe he was one of us. You know, MI6 or even that other lot, CI5."

Syd's eyes widened before he licked his lips. "Then this would be a bloody shame."

All the two coppers could do now was control the scene and wait as the sound of the sirens grew closer. Still, Doyle felt an incredible sense of personal loss and he had no clue as to why. He hated the loss of any life, of course, and he didn't even know this man. He told himself that his feeling of sadness was an overreaction, and he forced himself to concentrate on doing his job.

\--------------------------

February 16, 1978

"Ray?"

"Hmmm?"

"Your mind's not on the job, son."

Doyle avoided Syd's gaze. He knew he'd see concern in those eyes, and right now he didn't know how to explain what he was experiencing. Depressed? Yeah, he was. And his mind wasn't on the job as Syd had noticed. A dangerous thing in their line. Syd deserved his full attention. To watch his back, to be there for him.

"Lad, tomorrow is your day off and I want you to do me a great favour."

"Sure, mate. Name it."

"Do something for yourself. Get in that car of yours and go somewhere where your heart feels happy. Where your soul is at rest."

Doyle raised an eyebrow. "Quite philosophical, aren't we?"

Syd grinned. "It's Eleanor. She's continually reading to me from some sort or another of those books. Peace With Yourself. Life Well Lived. Whatever they're called, but she loves that rubbish."

"And you love her."

"That I do. And we do our best for those we love, don't we? So will you take my advice?"

"'Course, 'cause I love you as well."

Syd laughed and ruffled Doyle's hair. "Get off, you tosser."

Doyle laughed along with his friend and punched his arm. "Pint?"

"May as well. The wife doesn't get in until nine tonight. Knitting circle."

"Ah." Doyle nodded, unsuccessfully hiding his smirk. "I see yet another garish jumper for your New Year!" he teased.

"Don't you get cocky, Ray! I'm not supposed to tell, but she's doing you up a nice jumper for your next Christmas as well."

Doyle groaned. "Oh, no! Not to match that muffler from me birthday!" He shuddered, "Purple, red, yellow and black. I feel like a bleedin' peacock with that thing around my neck!"

Syd laughed as they walked down to the coppers' local. They shared a pint before they bid each other good night.

\---------------------------

February 17, 1978

Doyle shifted down from third to second and slowly passed by his former home. He cast a pleased glance at the three-storied building, happy to see that she looked as pretty as the day he'd left. Then he chuckled aloud.

"Christ, it's not been that long. You'd think it'd been years since you'd been here. Silly sod."

Still, Doyle felt inordinately happy to return, and he slipped the car in to a parking spot up the road. He slowly walked down the pavement, passing the house. The front garden needed some tending, but otherwise, she looked grand. He smiled as he passed by and when he reached the far kerb, he turned and grinned. Then he quickly returned and trotted up the front steps. Cupping his hand next to his eyes, he peered inside.

Things looked neat. He could see the edge of a settee in the front parlour, and in the hall, he saw a rack with two jackets hanging on it, as well as a black umbrella. A pair of boots sat on the floor under the coats. Doyle was content that the new tenant appeared to be caring for his house.

His house? He chuckled and turned to leave when an envelope jutting from the top of the letterbox caught his eye. His hand reached out automatically, and before he had a chance to think about handling somebody else's post, he'd removed the letter and peered down at the crisp writing on the front.

 _Ray Doyle._

In moments, he'd torn into it and read:

 _Dear Mr Doyle: Apparently, there's been some great misunderstanding. No one's lived in this house for two years, and there were no letters delivered to anyone other than myself since I've occupied this dwelling for the past three months. I truly hope you got the documents you were expecting but there's no way you lived in this house up to twelve weeks ago. Furthermore, if you had, the dust accumulated on every surface was quite annoying, something you didn't see fit to take care of, and the reference to the cat hair was not of much value, since it was long buried under the dust. Normally, I would take issue with you trying to pull the wool over my eyes, but this time, I will but thank you for your warning about possible allergies and for your concern. Very truly yours, W.A.P. Bodie._

Puzzled, Doyle scrubbed at his nose and reread the letter. What was this berk getting at? That he was trying to pull a fast one? All he'd asked was to have anything mistakenly delivered here redirected on to him. Maybe he should have left a small amount of money to cover any expense involved, yet the way the note was written irritated him. Seems the new tenant felt he was either a liar or a nutter. Vacant two years? Not hardly.

Doyle returned to his car and found pencil and paper. He sat for several minutes, chewing on the wooden yellow shaft. Then he jotted:

 _Dear Mr Bodie: I don't know you, but I must say, the entire tone of your note was not pleasant. All I asked was that you forward on anything addressed to me, yet you feel that I am some sort of moron. I don't know why you're taking the piss, but hear this: I lived in **this** house, number 88. I moved not long ago. If you have any post addressed to me, please forward it to the address below. Thank you. Sincerely yours, Ray Doyle. P.S. For your information, it is, and has been for the past few months, 1978. Nineteen, seventy-eight. It's February 17th, in case you're wondering._

\----------------------------

Spring, 1976

"1978?" Bodie laughed derisively. "Now I know this git is putting me on. What a jerk!" He balled up the note he'd pulled from his letter box and tossed it across the floor of the hall. Before he could close the front door, a streak of silver brushed past his leg and pounced on the crumpled paper.

"Hey!"

The large critter turned wide eyes on him, and with the paper held firmly in its teeth, boldly trotted up to him, and sat before him. It dropped its kill and meowed loudly. Bodie barely had time to register his surprise when the cat rose and regally trotted inside the house as if it belonged there, and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. Then he heard a loud meow echo down the hallway. He picked up the paper and shoved it in his pocket before he followed the creature. He found it sitting in the centre of his table, tail wrapped around its feet and a hungry look in its eyes.

"Out!" Bodie shouted, pointing to the door as if the cat could and would follow directions. The cat blinked and yawned. "Good God, you don't actually expect me to feed you?"

The cat again blinked, great green eyes gazing at him appraisingly. As he approached, it merely blinked again and waited with what Bodie could only describe as tolerant patience.

"I don't want a cat." He put all his disdain into those words.

The cat waited. Bodie glared. The cat sank to its haunches, and -- waited. Bodie sighed and went to the cupboard, found a bowl, a tin of tuna that he'd been thinking of having for his own dinner, and the tin opener. Muttering darkly, he opened the food and unceremoniously dumped the entire thing into the bowl, splashing liquid over the counter.

"Here." Bodie plopped the bowl on the floor. The cat stared at him and yawned again. "You don't bloody well expect me to serve you on my table, do you?" The cat sat up and meowed. "Christ, I'm talking to a dumb animal." He raised his eyes heavenward before he let out an indignant sniff, picked up the bowl and placed it before the animal. The cat leaned down and delicately sniffed the food before it dabbed a pink tongue into it. After a few seconds, it began to eat.

"I'm so happy it passed your inspection, Your Highness." Bodie tossed the tin away, turned and leaned against the counter, jamming his hands into his pockets. His fingers found the balled paper and he took out the note. Smoothing it between his hands, he scanned it once again. He shook his head and started to rip it in half, but something made him pause. He remembered the other note, and the mention of cat hair.

Cat hair? He glanced at the table, where the animal was now grooming itself, back leg lifted high. Cat?

"Are you Doyle's cat? Where have you been for the past two years? Living on the street? Don't look it. Look pretty well cared for, I'd say."

The cat stood and stretched, arching its back. Then it jumped to the floor and walked over to Bodie, and began to rub against his trousers.

Bodie couldn't believe himself when he leaned down and began to stroke the fur. Long silvery grey hair crackled with static electricity as he petted the cat, and when he scratched behind its left ear, it began to purr. "Silly bugger," he crooned. "Bloody hell, I have a cat."

\----------------------------

"Come on, mate. One more drink." Murphy cast Bodie a pitiful look.

Bodie shook his head at his partner. "Nah. Got an errand to run."

"Well, then." He lifted his glass and drained the last of the bitter. "You'll need my assistance."

"Not likely." Bodie rose and pulled on his coat. "Nothing important. Going to deliver a letter, that's all."

"You've been drinking, mate. Wouldn't do to have you pulled over by the coppers."

Bodie snorted with laughter as he donned his gloves. "Murph, I had one beer. You, on the other hand, had three. I'm driving."

"Okay," Murphy said meekly, following closely on his partner's heels. "Where we going?"

"Stepney Green."

"Oh, goody. My favourite part of town."

"Stay here, then."

"Nah, need a breath of air. And you need looking after." Murphy slung an arm around Bodie's shoulders. "Partners, we are. Me duty to look after you at all times."

Bodie unlocked his car door. "Murph, you're a total tosser."

"Yeah, but you love me 'cause I'm beautiful."

Bodie climbed in and reached over to unlock the passenger door. "Not as beautiful as I am."

"Want to bet?"

"Fiver. We'll ask the next pretty lass we see to arbitrate."

"You're on."

Bodie grinned wickedly and drove on. He cruised down the street written on Doyle's note until he came to where the number would have been located. He stopped the car and stared. There was a number 35 all right, but nobody could possibly live in that derelict building. The windows were broken and most of the roof was gone. The front steps were crumbled brick and the entire thing looked as if it'd been deserted for half a century.

"Bloody hell."

"What?" Murphy asked. "Is that the place? Looks nasty, mate. Some sort of old hotel, maybe. Are you sure?"

"Read the address." Bodie thrust the note at Murphy, smacking it against his chest. .

Murphy took the paper and turned on the overhead light in the fading daylight. He glanced at the note, looked up at the building, then looked at the paper once more as if to confirm what he'd read. "This is what the note says, Bodie, but there's no way anybody lives in that. It's a rat-infested hole." He gave a shudder. "Needs to be demolished before somebody kills themselves in that wreck."

"Yeah." Bodie jammed the gear shift from neutral to first and peeled out. "Especially if I find somebody to kill first," he muttered darkly.

\--------------------------------

March 3, 1978

Doyle couldn't help himself. On his next day off, he made his way back across town and once again found himself on the steps of his former dwelling. He somehow wasn't surprised to see the envelope poking out of the letterbox.

 _Dear Mr Doyle: I am not at all pleased with your attitude and your unpleasant joking at my expense. For your information, I personally went by the address indicated in your note as your current domicile, and I'm sure you will not be surprised at what I found. In case you don't know what I'm talking about, the building in which you claim to currently live is abandoned. There is no way anybody lives in that wreck of a disaster area. I don't know what you're trying to pull, but you should know that I refuse to be baited by you any longer. Your reasons for these untoward actions are of no consequence and I will no longer stand for it. Do not attempt to contact me again. With disgust, Bodie. P.S. It's 1976, you fucking arsehole, April, for your information, and it's been warm and sunny for two weeks!_

\-------------------------------

 _Dear Mr Bodie: I am not taking the piss. I am not crazy. And I am certainly not harassing you! I swear I merely wanted my post! I admit my confusion at your insistence that the year is 1976. Please believe me when I tell you it is 1978. I wouldn't tell you this if I didn't honestly know it!_

 _I suppose the only thing to do is prove it to you. You mentioned it's warm and sunny. In the spring of 1976, there was a freak snow storm on April 17th, and quite a few folks were suffering from a nasty outbreak of the common cold. So I suggest you lay in a good supply of tablets and juice, and a fresh box of handkerchiefs for your dripping nose. And turn the heating back up._

 _Maybe if you take note of these events, you will discover that I'm either psychic or telling the truth._

 _VTY, Ray Doyle_

\-------------------------------

April 17, 1976

Bodie reread Doyle's note for a third time before he shook his head and wondered yet again why this bloke was determined to bother him. With a sigh, he dropped the paper on the kitchen table and began to rummage in the fridge for something to eat. The shelves were as bare as they'd been in weeks and other than a shrivelled apple, there wasn't much to nosh on.

With a grunt, Bodie slammed the door closed and stomped over to the telephone. There was that Chinese takeaway three streets away. He dialled from memory but before he had a chance to give his order, Mr Chin was shouting at him, _"No delivery tonight! Big snow!"_

"Eh?" Bodie hung up and walked to the window. He stood, mouth open, as thick snowflakes danced by the cold glass. "What the fuck?" he muttered. "But it was sixty degrees out this morning!"

Suddenly he sneezed. Once, twice, three times. "Now what?" He froze in his tracks. His nose prickled and his eyes burned. His throat felt raw and his head began to ache. A cold. He was coming down with a sodding cold, and it was snowing! Snatching up the note from the table, he held it between both hands and started to laugh. "I'm now officially a nutter corresponding with another nutter. Great minds think alike! God help both of us."

\-----------------------------------

 _Dear Mr Doyle: I'm willing to concede that I might have been a trifle hasty in my previous correspondence. What do you say that we start over, and I'll begin by introducing myself._

 _My name is Bodie and I'm a civil servant. Had a birthday recently. I'm twenty-eight and the birds say my eyes are like a deep mountain lake in the summer. Hair's dark and body's in fighting form. Me mum says I'm a prime physical specimen. I think I was born tall, dark and gorgeous, and engagingly modest. You can drop the mister. Just Bodie is fine. Yours, Bodie_

 _.-------------------------------------_

 _Dear Bodie: I accept your apology and I'd like to meet you. I don't know how this would work since we're (I can't believe I'm saying this) not in the same time period. How is that even possible? Are there parallel dimensions? Is it some sort of time rift? I've seen Dr Who, so I'm open to a reasonable explanation._

 _Anyway, I'm a year older than you, and the birds say I'm adorable and they love running their fingers through my curly hair. I keep fit by jogging and I'm a copper. What sort of civil servant? Which department? Maybe I know your supervisor. Sorry. That sounds like an interrogation! Rather, I enjoy motorcycles and practising my shooting on the range. Oh, and I have a cat. She's a silver grey long-haired thing and an exceptional mouser. I call her The Queen or Her Highness since she thinks she rules the world. She does rule me, mind. TTFN._

 _\--------------------------------------_

 _Dear Ray: How can we possibly live in different times? I've not seen Dr Who but I know about time rifts, and that's the stuff of science fiction. But I'm not lying, and I don't think you are either. This is too fucking weird. And I'll have you know that I believe we're sharing the same cat! One moved in when I did, and she's made herself at home._

 _I think I'm now officially ready for the nut house. B._

\--------------------------------------

June, 1978

"Syd, can I talk to you?"

"Of course, Ray. Want to chew the fat over a pint?"

"Yeah, that'd be good."

The men walked side by side to the local near the police station. They waited until each had their drink in hand and were sitting at a table before Syd nodded to Doyle to go on while he licked the froth from his upper lip.

"I- Do you- This is hard." Doyle sighed and sipped his beer.

"Is it trouble with the ladies?"

"No. I wish. That would be much easier to figure out. It's these letters I've been getting."

"Letters? Who's sending 'em? Are they threatening?" Syd leaned closer and looked upset.

"No! No, really. Let's see if I can say this without sounding like I'm ready for a rubber room. I've been putting letters in the letter box at my old place and the tenant there's been answering them. Except we've discovered that we're not... Oh, Christ, this is going to sound really daft."

"Ray, mate, go on and say it. What's got you so twisted up?"

"He's living two years behind us!"

"Eh?"

"I know how this comes across." Doyle scrubbed at his nose before he looked directly at Syd. "But I'm sure he's telling the truth. He's living in 1976 and this is 1978, for Christ's sake!"

"Settle down, Ray. You know procedure. Gather the evidence and study it. Do you really believe this- Who is he anyway?"

"Name's Bodie. He's a civil servant and he's living in my house with my cat!"

Syd stared at Doyle for a long while before he finally said, "This is way beyond my understanding. Might be some lost soul stuck in Purgatory or worse. Maybe you should talk to a minister or a priest or somebody who knows about such things."

Doyle let out a long sigh. "I think I'm crazy. But I know I'm not! I believe him, and he believes me."

Syd shrugged. "The world is a strange place, Ray. Maybe this is some sort of a sign. Or a test, my Eleanor would say. The Lord is testing you."

Doyle frowned. "Why? Why would he test me?"

"Don't know. A test of faith, maybe. Time will tell."

"I feel like I know him. That we're mates even though we've never met. We have this -- connection."

"'Nother beer?"

Doyle nodded, and he watched Syd rise and make his way across the pub. Syd hadn't laughed or scoffed, but still, Syd was a simple man, and this... This was weird, to say the least. But somehow, Doyle knew he wasn't being tested by God. This seemed so real!

What was going on? It was all so strange!

Even stranger to Doyle was that he liked reading Bodie's letters, and he couldn't wait for the next one. In fact, maybe he'd trek over to his former home on his next day off. He had a few more questions for Bodie and he was intrigued by the presence of his cat in both of their lives. Yeah, that's exactly what he'd do. And maybe they'd get to the bottom of this yet. Feeling better, Doyle took the fresh pint from Syd as he handed it across the table. He felt more than relieved when their talk turned to the more mundane aspects of life.

\--------------------------------

Summer, 1976

"Mr Cowley?"

"Aye. Come in, Bodie. Have a seat."

Bodie smiled at his superior as he sat down. "Quite the pile of papers, sir."

"Oh, aye. Writing my memoirs."

"Are you?" Bodie's eyebrow rose. "I'd like to read that, sir."

"You'll have to purchase a copy like everybody else, Bodie. If it's published, that is." Cowley took off his glasses and gave Bodie a teasing grin. "I'll need every penny from the sales to fund my retirement."

Bodie chuckled. "Would think you're set with a nice pension after your years of service to the country."

"And what business is that of yours, 3.7?"

"Ah, none, sir." Bodie leaned forward. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Cowley sat back and waved a hand toward the drinks cabinet. "If this is going to take long, you'd best pour us a wee nip."

"Yes, sir!" Bodie jumped up, happy to serve Mr Cowley if it meant he got his own taste of his controller's excellent Scotch. He filled his glass more than halfway and Mr Cowley's with a tad less. "Sir." He placed Cowley's glass within easy reach. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

The men sipped their drinks for a moment before Cowley cocked his head at Bodie.

Bodie cleared his throat. "Do you believe in time travel?"

"Excuse me?"

"Time travel. Parallel dimensions. Time rifts. Do you think two people can live in different times, yet communicate with each other?"

"Like psychics claim to communicate with spirits?"

"No, sir. Not at all. Real physical people, like me, corresponding with another bloke, yet he's living two years ahead of me."

"You're joking."

"I'm serious."

"What's going on with you, and even more important, is it a security risk to this organisation, 3.7?"

Bodie saw the concern on Cowley's face and he paused before he answered. "Hadn't thought of that, sir, but I don't think so. That old house I'm living in? I've been writing to the bloke who lived there before me, only he thinks he lived there recently, but after we exchanged letters, we discovered we're in different times."

"Different times?"

Bodie knew he sounded like a first class nutter, but now that he had started to talk to somebody about his unusual relationship with Ray Doyle, he couldn't help himself. "He's living in 1978, and he's a copper. I haven't told him what I do, of course, but still... Seems like a nice bloke, and all." He shrugged, embarrassed at how much he liked Doyle, even though they'd never met.

The room was quiet until Cowley finally said, "I don't know what to say. It sounds quite unlikely. Perhaps he's some sort of a confidence man who's trying to set you up as a mark."

"Don't think so. It feels too-" Bodie paused before he gave a disconcerted grin. "Call it a hunch, but it'll be okay."

"I've known you long enough to have faith in your hunches. But why don't you check out this copper to be on the safe side? See what the computers turn up."

"Good idea, sir. It pays to be sure."

"It does. Now if that's all...?"

"Sir."

Bodie rose, and after tossing back the last drop of Scotch, he headed home for the day.

\------------------------------

Summer, 1978

Doyle slipped his note inside the letter box and trotted down the steps. A small clink reached his ears and as he turned and looked, his mouth dropped open. The letter was -- floating? Good God. The front door opened and it disappeared, along with-

"Bodie?" Doyle called out, running up the steps. He pounded on the door. No one answered. He looked through the door's window but the interior was empty. No furniture, no curtains, no umbrella stand.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, slowly turning away. He touched the letter box, opened it, and stared. His letter was definitely gone. How could that be? He'd put it in there less than three minutes ago. Stunned, he backed up and slumped against the far wall, eyes fixed on the box.

Amazingly, it happened. Right before his eyes. While he was staring directly at the letter box. The lid opened and miraculously a new envelope appeared. Out of thin air.

"Bloody hell!" He stepped forward and yanked out the note.

\------------------------------

Summer, 1976

Bodie froze in his spot inside the front door. He heard a small metallic sound, spun around, and he felt a cold sweat break out over his entire body. The letter he'd put in the box was gone! He yanked the door open and stepped out, his gaze scanning the road. There wasn't a pedestrian to be seen, and at the moment, no vehicles moved on the road in either direction.

"Christ, " he whispered, walking down the steps and standing, hands on hips. "It can't be! It's fucking impossible!" Bodie turned in a full circle. "Doyle!" He paused then he heard that same tiny metal clank. "Shit!" He ran to the top of the stairs and pulled out the newly-placed envelope. "This is not happening. This is not happening!" Even as he opened the letter, he knew full well it was. "I'm not mad. Am I?" He pulled out the new missive.

\-------------------------------

 _Dear Bodie: Something weird happened to me. I was at your -- our -- house and the strangest thing went on. I actually saw my letter that I'd placed in the box disappear right in front of my eyes. I am not mad! Honestly, I'm not..._

 _Even to me that sounds so pathetic! But what happened? D._

\---------------------------------

Bodie couldn't believe he was standing here, writing notes that were being answered as he watched. But he couldn't deny this. How could he when he was standing here, reading the words Doyle must have written moments earlier?

\----------------------------------

 _Doyle, mate, it happened to me as well! So either we're both hallucinating, or in the same fucking dream, or we've... What? What are we? Crazy? Idiots? Maybe! But it's grand, isn't it? Well, not the part that we can't see or speak, but this is amazing! We've broken time? Watched that Dr Who you went on about and I can see what happens. What if it's true? Hell, it is true! B._

 _\---------------------------------_

 _B. Let's say we accept it as true. That way we can possibly discover why it's happening. I wish I could stay longer, but I'm on duty in the morning, so I've got to get home and catch a kip. Tell you what. On me next day off (next Tuesday), let's go out on the town together. I'll be at The Approach Tavern at eight for a pint, then at nine I'll goaround to The Bishop Bonner. My last visit will be to The Greyhound at ten. Oh, and I'll be wearing blue jeans, a tan jumper, and a brown leather jacket with a woolly collar. D._

 _\--------------------------------_

 _I can't believe I'm doing this, but it's a date. B. (I'll be dressed in black from the top of my well-trimmed hair to my size ten feet._

\-------------------------------

Summer, 1978

Doyle took his time at the first pub, having a half pint in order to keep his senses sharp, and he sipped his drink slowly. He enjoyed the ebb and flow of humanity around him: the tang of ale in the air, the smell of a pipe, the clink of glass, the laughter of other patrons, but he only observed. As nine o'clock approached, he made sure to give himself enough time to get to his next destination.

He relaxed as much as possible and kept to himself, waving off several offers of a darts game and two come-ons by pretty birds. Doyle reckoned he was definitely a nutter when he realised he'd rejected warm, live women for the evening's entertainment in exchange for one bloke living in another time that he couldn't even see. With a grin at his own lunacy, he headed toward the last rendezvous.

Glass in hand, he made his way to an empty table and sat, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles. Nice place, this. He loved the dark, smoky atmosphere of a good pub. It made him feel relaxed and somehow part of life. The murmur of many voices made a pleasant background to his happily confused thoughts.

Bodie. What was it about the fellow that made him so happy? He didn't even know the man, yet somehow he felt good about this entire experience. A glance at his watch told him his evening was coming to an end, but for some reason he didn't want it to be over. Not yet. Not when he was feeling this content. One more beer, then he'd let the night conclude.

Decision made, he went to the bar and ordered another half. Returning to his table, he sat down and reached out, using the paper napkin resting on the table to swipe at a large wet glass ring before he put his elbow into it. Something caught his eye and he glanced down. He froze, his eyes almost watering as he stared unblinking at the napkin. Two minutes ago it was merely a napkin. White and blank. Now the words printed on it were written in startling clarity. He felt himself shiver and he held his breath.

 _"D. Enjoyed my evening with you, mate. B."_

Every residual bit of trepidation regarding this relationship with someone living two years behind him fled. It was a lot to take in, yet he knew without a doubt that everything happening to both of them was real.

Doyle took in a slow, deep breath before he released it. "Oh, my God."

\--------------------------------------

 _"Bodie, my lad, I need you to do me a big favour. On August 22, 1976, I left a book me mum had given me as a pressie on a bench in the tube station nearest our house. Check on the one at the far end of the platform. Had a Cadbury Flake sign over it, if I remember correctly. Was in a hurry, you see. So could you get that for me? I caught the tube up to the West End about noon that day. It'll be a big relief to know that it's in good hands and not ripped and sodden in a puddle somewhere. Ta so much! Doyle."_

\---------------------------------------

August, 1976

It was a fine day when Bodie pulled on his jacket and made his way down the street and across the road to the stairs leading underground. He trotted down the steps, whistling happily. God, he felt good. Work was hectic, but he'd enjoyed the excitement, the adventure of it all. His partner was a good bloke, was Murphy. They got on fine. Murphy didn't bother him with endless chatter like his first partner had. He and Anson never did get on, but Murphy was all right.

And then there was Doyle. He'd checked the bloke out on Mr Cowley's orders and had discovered that Doyle was indeed a copper. Had a good record. His superiors thought highly of his work. He did have a few black marks on his personal file, though. Apparently, his friend had a strong sense of morality and sometimes locked heads with other members of the constabulary who roughed up innocents. He'd been in a couple of scuffles with other coppers. He'd also been involved deeply in making a case against a couple of bent coppers named Preston and Montgomery, who were now incarcerated for their crimes. Bodie bet they didn't think highly of Ray Doyle. Bit of a white knight, it seemed.

All in all, a good man to know, Bodie reckoned.

Bodie walked across the tube platform. He headed towards the far end, wondering how Doyle could remember a detail like what sort of advert was over a bench in a tube station that looked like almost every other station. His steps slowed as he spied the Cadbury sign. A man and a woman sat on the bench. A bloke and a bird. The fellow had curly hair with a slim build while his companion had sleek red hair and a pale face. They stood, and the man's back was to Bodie as the woman tipped up her face for a kiss. That's when Bodie saw it right where Doyle said he'd left it. The paperback book.

The man turned; his face came into full view. Bodie's heart pounded and his throat clenched. Not handsome, yet quite attractive. Something marred the interesting face, but before Bodie could study him further, he realised with a jolt who this obviously was.

Doyle! In the flesh! Surprise kept him rooted to the spot.

Doyle and the woman rushed past Bodie and hurried into the train. Bodie raced to the bench and snapped up the book.

"Hey!" he yelled. He sprinted towards the train, but the doors closed before he got there. "Doyle!" Bodie shouted. He caught sight of Doyle with his arm slung around the woman's waist. Doyle leaned in to say something to the woman. She looked up at him and laughed, small white teeth flashing.

Then they were gone.

Bodie stared at the back of the train until it disappeared, and even after it was long gone, he stood there, dumbfounded, for many minutes. Finally, he turned away, and as he road the escalator back to the street level, he glanced down at the book in his hand.

 _"The Hobbit"_ by JRR Tolkien. He opened the cover and written on the back was, _"To my dear son, Ray. Remember to escape sometimes and dream. Love, Mum."_

Bodie swallowed before he sighed. He'd seen Doyle, and he liked what he saw. Now, if he could figure out a way to get them both into the same place and time so they could meet, then he knew -- somehow he knew -- that his life would be complete.

And with his usual aplomb, he dismissed the woman as inconsequential and conjured up the picture of Doyle he'd burned into his mind.

Trim and fit, the man had a walk (and an arse) that made Bodie's eyes water and his mouth dry. That body was what he desired. And that face. He'd caught a glimpse of green eyes and that hair! What he would give to run his fingers through that hair, to grasp a handful of it, and to hold it tightly as he tipped back the man's head to cover those inviting lips with his own. To kiss Doyle until he whimpered with need, to touch that body, and have it respond to his caresses.

Bodie laughed aloud and almost skipped home. His euphoria held until he saw the letter box. That was when he remembered his predicament; their predicament, and with a final glance at the letter box, he went inside to think about this untenable situation. There must be something he could do to bring Doyle into his bed. He laughed aloud. First he had to actually meet the man!

As he fixed his tea, Bodie thought about how he felt. Was he falling in love? At the thought, he guffawed. "Don't be daft," he muttered, reaching down to scratch The Queen as she wound herself through his legs. "Am I a nutter, girl? Eh?" He lightly rubbed his fingertips right behind her left ear and was rewarded with a purr loud enough to be heard next door. "If anybody's the nut job, it's you. Why? 'Cause you love me, and I'm having a long-distance relationship with a bloke from the damned Tardis."

\---------------------------------------

 _Dear Doyle: I have your book. I know you didn't see me, but as a matter of fact, I saw you and a red-haired bird on the tube platform. Is she your girlfriend? Or are you married? Just curious. I'm a single fellow. Don't expect I'll ever get married._

 _Hey, when we finally figure out this bloody mess, I'll give you your book. I hope you don't mind if I read it in the meantime. I'll leave your bookmark right where it is, mind. Wouldn't want you to lose your place now, would I? I'm grinning at that silly notion._

 _But maybe, just maybe we'll get to the bottom of this (whatever this is!) and when we do, we'll go out and get pissed. Me and you, mate. Do you do darts? Bodie._

\----------------------------------------

September, 1978

Comfortably situated on his sofa, drink at his elbow, warm cat on his lap and the telly on a comedy programme that he wasn't really watching, Doyle reread Bodie's note. Three times, in fact. Bodie had been in the tube station! And he hadn't seen him. Too busy with Ann, his former girlfriend. Thought he'd found 'the one' back then, but it hadn't worked out. Funny, that. Thinking about her didn't hurt at all any more. Not like it had when she'd first left.

Doyle took a sip of his drink before setting it down to stroke the cat absent-mindedly. She butted her head into his hand.

"Yes, Your Highness. I hear you." He smiled as he lightly ran his nails on the soft skin behind her right ear, then her left. She closed her eyes and a blissful look came over her face. Her purr grew louder, making Doyle chuckle. "Demanding little git, aren't you, my love?"

She merely blinked slowly and her eyes drifted shut under his ministrations. He gave her a fond glance. He reached over for his pen and paper, taking care not to jostle his pet lest she dig a claw into his leg in warning that this lap belonged to her as long as she wanted. She was in charge, he knew.

Doyle rubbed a finger across his upper lip before he wrote:

 _"Bodie, I wish I'd seen you! That's amazing, isn't it? It will be something if and when you can return my book to me. You know, if you really want to get to the bottom of this, call me tonight, September 5th at..."_ he glanced at his watch, _"...nine pm..."_

Doyle jumped a mile when the phone on the lamp table next to the settee rang. Her Highness let out an irritated yowl. She jumped from his lap and trotted out of the room, her body language conveying her complete irritation at the disturbance.

The phone rang on... twice, three times. His eyes widened. No, it couldn't be... How could Bodie know? He hadn't delivered the note yet! On the fourth ring, Doyle finally gathered his wits about him, reached out and lifted the receiver to his ear.

"Yes?"

 _"Ray?"_

Not Bodie. A woman... "Yeah."

 _"It's Ann. I'm in London."_

"Ann? Oh, hello." A thousand things flashed through his mind. Ann? Where was she? Why was she calling? He finally said, "Ah, good hearing from you."

 _"It's nice hearing your voice, Ray. I've -- missed you. Can we get together? A drink, maybe?"_

Doyle paused. He remembered her parting words of more than a year ago. Funny how he could recall each one, _"Oh, I was foolish enough to think that you could change. It wouldn't work, Ray. It could never work. I'm one thing, and--well--you're exactly what you are."_ Those words still hurt, but his curiosity got the better of him. Why not? He was over her, after all. "Yeah. Sure. When?"

 _"Tomorrow evening?"_

"Where?"

 _"I'm staying at The Gloucester."_

"Fancy digs, eh?"

 _"I'm on a business trip, Ray, but I do so want to see you."_

"All right. Eight o'clock, in the bar?"

 _"That will be fine. Tomorrow night, then."_

"Bye."

Doyle hung up and stared at the phone for a long while.

\--------------------------------

"It's so good to see you again, Ray!" Ann beamed at him. She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm as they strolled along, window shopping and talking.

"Dinner was nice."

"It was delightful. You were good company." Ann squeezed his arm.

Doyle looked at her for a moment before he said, "You didn't feel that way when you left." He winced as the words left his mouth. He hadn't meant to sound so defensive. Christ, he thought he was over her rejection of him, but apparently there was still a tiny raw spot on his heart that must be yet bleeding. Did he still love her? No, not really, but his pride had been hurt, and it still rankled. After all, she'd dumped him and he'd felt he'd been wronged back then. But that was over. He'd best get a handle on things immediately, he ordered himself.

Gathering his runaway thoughts, he gave Ann a smile. "Sorry," he said sincerely. "That was uncalled for."

Ann patted his arm. "I understand, but surely you must know why I felt betrayed."

"It was nothing! I told you that then and I'll repeat it now. It was one kiss. It was spontaneous and of no consequence. I explained all that to you back then." Doyle glanced away. "Don't fancy defending myself all over again."

Ann stepped away from him. "It wasn't the kiss, Ray, and you know it."

Doyle looked into her eyes, and he saw that while she'd said she'd forgiven him, she still hadn't forgotten a moment of that night. Why had she even bothered to call? "I told you when we met that I'd been in prior relationships. I was honest with you, but you couldn't get over what I was. What I am."

Ann's eyes grew hard. "I did accept what you told me, but you assured me that I was the one you loved. You said you didn't want another person in your life." Then she said coolly, "Not many women would accept a man who had previous homosexual relationships. I thought you were through with that distasteful lifestyle."

Doyle shook his head. He reached out and touched a strand of her hair. "Ann, love, I am, and will be, attracted to men and women. That doesn't mean I can't be faithful to the person I choose to spend the rest of my life with. If you can't accept me as I am, well..." He gave her arm a light squeeze. "Let me get you a cab. I've got a full shift tomorrow, and I need to be off."

Doyle stepped to the kerb and whistled at an approaching cab. As it pulled to the side, Ann touched his hand.

"Ray, New York is an unusual city. It's a lot like London, but there are things I can't quite explain. After a time, I remembered what we had shared, and I missed it. I missed you!"

"You're the one who left."

"You know why I left! Please, Ray. I've thought about this and I'd like to ask you if we can try again. I'm more than willing, and I think I've changed." Her tear-bright gaze held his. "Please, Ray."

After studying Ann's face carefully, Doyle saw that she was honestly willing to give it another go. He felt the familiar attraction she'd once held for him, and she did seem willing to try. One part of him knew he should refuse her offer. Desperation wasn't a good reason to date someone, let alone marry them. Was it? He wanted somebody to love him. He wanted to be loved. And Bodie-

No. This was his last chance. If he didn't take it, then he'd be alone. With a firm grip on his emotions, he finally said, "We could try again, but we'll have to take it slowly. We rushed into our love affair once. This time I want to be sure."

Ann smiled warmly and put a hand to the side of his face. "Oh, Ray..." She kissed his cheek before she climbed into the cab. Doyle shut the door and leaned into the window, handing the driver some money.

"Ray, thank you for a lovely evening. I'll call you when my meeting is over. Either tomorrow or the next day." She gave him a pout. "I leave for New York at the end of the week. I do so want to spend some time with you. Let's make the most of this. All right?"

"Yeah. We'll make the most of it." Doyle touched the fingers Ann had rested on the car's window frame. "Good night."

"Sleep well, Ray."

As the cab pulled away, Ann glanced out the rear window and pressed her fingers to her lips, blowing him a kiss. He waved in return.

Doyle paused, standing on the payment. He wondered if he'd done the right thing. But he wasn't getting any younger and he had loved Ann. Maybe she was the one for him, and fate had returned her to his arms. Seeing her again hadn't brought any great rush of feelings. He didn't feel that flush of passion like before, but he didn't hurt any longer either. Maybe they could be friends. And friends made for the best marriages. Spending a couple of days with her might tell him if he could do this. If he could settle. If he could marry for convenience and for companionship. Passion and love weren't for him, he reckoned. So it was either Ann or a life alone. He would try. Giving a curt nod that he'd made the proper decision, he headed home.

\-------------------------------

October, 1976

Bodie's car came to a screeching halt, sliding on the wet leaves that covered the road's surface. He sat still amidst the acrid smell of burning rubber from the tyres and waited until his heart stopped pounding in his ears. The tap on his window brought up his head, and he frowned at the bright blue eyes that stared at him. Red lips, pursed into a startled 'oh'. Eyes brimming with tears and a pale white face.

Bodie nodded, and as the woman stepped back, he climbed from the car. Oh, good Christ, it was the woman from the tube station. The one Doyle'd got on the train with. What in hell was Fate doing now? Fucking with him, he was sure.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried, clutching a bundle of silver grey fur in her arms. "It's this dreadful animal. You were so kind not to hit the brainless creature. Thank you!"

"It's all right," he managed to mutter, wiping his sweaty palm on his trousers. "I like cats, so I was happy I didn't hit it."

The woman wrinkled her nose. "She's okay, I guess. Belongs to my boyfriend. He'd be upset if she were hurt."

Bodie took in the woman's demeanour. She certainly wouldn't be unhappy if the cat had died. Cold fish, this one, he reckoned.

"Ann Holly." She smiled and the cat fidgeted in her grasp. "Oh, go on. Go home, Missy," she said coolly, letting the cat jump from her arms. Then she held out her hand.

"Bodie." They shook. Bodie didn't like the clammy fingers in his, but she was something of a looker. Quite pretty, in that upper-crust, snooty sort of way.

"How about a cup of tea as a thank you?" she offered. "It's quite cold out this morning."

"I'm sure you're busy..." Bodie said weakly, not really wanting to offend but not at all sure he'd like spending any time with her. Still, she knew Doyle, intimately by the sound of things, and he wanted to know more about the man who'd captured his attention.

"I'm waiting for the caterers to make a delivery. They're late, of course. With the prices I've paid, you'd think they'd keep to their schedule." He must have looked dazed (not because of the cat, to be sure!) because she went on. "Ray's birthday today, so I've planned a small party." Ann gave him a close look before she nodded briskly. "Come on in, then. Kettle's already on."

In the end, Bodie was glad he took her up on her offer. The fates must have been on his side that day because he ended up being invited to Doyle's party. During the conversation while she waited for the delivery, Bodie almost danced with glee. Tonight he'd be close to the man. He'd be close to his Doyle. The thought gave Bodie a shiver as he drove towards HQ.

On his way to his destination eight hours later, he stopped and bought the birthday boy a quite expensive bottle of champagne and a box of stationery. With a touch of irony, he wondered if he'd tell Doyle about their future relationship.

\-----------------------------

Bodie entered the posh flat that he'd been in earlier in the day. He let his gaze peruse the crowd. The low murmur of voices brushed over him. The clink of glasses and the soft music playing in the background made him realise that this was not his sort of party. These people were decked out in suits and fancy frocks. He smiled. Definitely not what he was used to. His mates were a rowdy bunch, but good blokes all. They enjoyed a beer and a game of darts. Even the birds on the squad had a certain roughness about them. Had to if they wanted to stay alive. Still, it was nice to mingle with the other half, at times.

Thankful that he'd worn his best black trousers, black polo neck and a new black leather jacket, Bodie sauntered into the room. He wasn't surprised when quite a few women and even a couple of men gave him the eye. He smiled at each person whose gaze met his, and made his way to his hostess.

Still, the entire time, he surreptitiously searched for the real reason why he'd come tonight. Doyle.

"Bodie!"

Ann's voice brought his head around and he gave her his warmest smile. "Ann." As he took her hand, he leaned down and brushed a kiss on the cheek she presented to him. "You look marvellous." He stepped back, holding her arm aloft while he admired her expensive ensemble. "Absolutely ravishing. That shade of blue is stunning on you."

Ann blushed prettily. "Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself."

"I try." Bodie smiled yet again even as he wondered if his face would hurt by the end of the evening with the grin he'd plastered on his face. "Thank you for your invitation. Very nice," he said, nodding at the room in general. Before he released her hand, he kissed the back of her fingers.

"Bodie, you are such a delight."

Finally unable to stand the suspense any longer, he casually asked, "And where is the guest of honour?"

Ann's face grew pinched and she leaned closer. With a disgusted sigh, she admitted, "He's late. As usual." Eyes narrowed, she shook her head. "His job."

"Ah," Bodie said with sympathy. "Not a smart bloke to leave such a beautiful woman waiting."

"Oh, Bodie," she said, laughing lightly. "Let's get you a drink."

"Now that sounds like a grand suggestion." He slipped her hand through his arm and escorted her across the room to the bar, where a man in white livery waited on the many guests.

After getting his Scotch, Bodie bid Ann a farewell for now, reminding her that he was being unfair to the other guests monopolising her for himself. With a lift of his glass, he turned and sauntered around the room. Waiting... Where was Doyle? Bodie's fingers shook slightly when, finally (finally!), he saw what he'd hoped for -- and dreamed about -- all day.

Doyle walked in from the rear of the flat. Everybody turned and politely clapped. Doyle grinned at the response. Ann swept through the tide of bodies that parted for her. As she approached Doyle, she put out a hand. Doyle took it as he leaned towards her for a kiss. Ann turned her face away and consented to let Doyle put a peck on her cheek.

Bodie had moved closer. He was sure he saw a cloud of consternation cross Doyle's face at Ann's dismissal of his affections, but it was quickly erased and replaced with a smile. Keeping himself in a clear line of view with Doyle, he studied the man intently. He was as gorgeous as Bodie'd thought he had remembered. Those moments on the tube platform had been brief, and afterwards, Bodie had convinced himself that he'd seen what he wanted to see. Nobody could be that sensual, that desirable. Yet here, close at hand, Doyle was everything he'd envisioned, and more.

Slim, yet with a power in that trim body that Bodie could clearly see. A face, not perfect, but so interesting. Green eyes that snapped with life. And the hair... He longed to bury his hands in those brown curls, to feel their silky texture. Bodie swallowed a sip of his drink, wetting his dry throat.

Dressed in a forest green button shirt, dark brown cords and a lighter brown sports coat, Doyle looked like some delicious chocolate treat Bodie wanted to grab up and snack on. The green in the shirt set off his eyes and his colouring perfectly. The two top buttons of his shirt were undone so that the edges formed a triangle that revealed a tantalising peek of chest chair.

Bodie's fingers tightened on the glass. He had to have this man.

"Bodie?"

Startled, Bodie jerked. Scotch splashed over his sleeve and down on the perfectly finished hardwood floors. "Eh?" he blurted stupidly.

Ann had the good manners to ignore his clumsiness. With a bright smile, she introduced the man on her arm. "This is my boyfriend, Ray Doyle."

Bodie extended a hand, and as their palms touched, Bodie's eyes widened. Doyle's firm grasp made him shudder as if he'd been jolted with electricity. He barely remembered his manners when he said, "Pleasure, I'm sure."

"Ann says you saved my cat."

That voice. Bodie stared into the green eyes. His brain went into meltdown. "Ah... No problem, mate. Wouldn't want to splat it all over the pavement." Christ, he was an idiot!

Doyle laughed, and Bodie felt himself lost even more. "No, wouldn't want that. She's a treasure. Do you have a pet?"

"Ray, I must attend to the guests. And don't forget to mingle." Ann gave Doyle a stern look before she turned away.

"Wonderful girl," Bodie muttered.

Doyle smiled, casting Ann a quick glance. "Yeah. Don't see what she sees in me, though. I'm nothing but a lowly copper. Ann's on the social register."

Bodie wanted to say that Doyle was much too good for the likes of Ann Holly, but he bit his tongue. "Very pretty, that. Seems quite smart."

"She is," Doyle said proudly.

Silence fell between the two men. Bodie struggled not to blurt out what he already knew: that Doyle was his correspondent. _Yeah, go ahead. Tell him. Watch him look like you've grown two heads. Like you're stark raving mad._

He could hear himself now:

 _"Oy, Doyle. Thought you'd like to know that in two years, you and I'll exchange letters in a letter box in a house you haven't lived in yet. But we're not in the same time, mate. We're living two years apart!"_

Ah, fuck, maybe he was a lunatic! No. No, he had the letters at home. The paper was real. The book he'd rescued was real. And Doyle was definitely, delightfully real.

Still, even if he tried, how could he possibly explain anything that had happened to him, to them? And better yet, how could Bodie possibly tell Doyle that he was in love with him.

Again, the conversation danced through his brain.

 _"Doyle, we've never met yet, but will in the future. Oh, in case you're interested, I fancy you something dreadful. And by the way, you and I have the same cat. Furthermore, we live two years apart, but we send each other letters all the time."_

That was pure downright rubbish! Doyle would look at him like he'd gone around the corner and down the bend in a big way. He'd run away from Bodie as fast and as far as he could. Rather, he'd toss Bodie arse over balls right out the front door. Bodie could see himself tumble down the front steps and sprawl on the nicely manicured lawn. So Bodie kept his mouth shut until the silence between them got awkward.

"You'd best mingle, mate. Orders from your other half." Bodie lifted his glass. "Happy birthday. Oh, wait." Bodie retrieved the carrier bag he'd stowed in the entry earlier, berating himself for not wrapping the present properly. "Brought you something for your special day."

"Thanks, mate." Doyle didn't open the bag, but he did give Bodie a warm smile. "Better do as I'm told." He cast a glance at Ann, who was talking with a distinguished grey-haired gentleman near the fireplace. He turned back to Bodie. "Thanks for coming, Bodie. Nice meeting you."

"Same to you." Bodie saluted Doyle with his glass.

And he let Doyle walk away.

\------------------------------

Doyle shivered as he walked across the room, away from Bodie. Glancing back, he rubbed a hand down his jacket. Bodie had his head bent and appeared to be intently studying his drink. Doyle felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, and he gave another shake.

What was the saying? Oh, right, goose walked over his grave. Doyle chewed his lip as he sought out Ann. For a time, her bright smile chased all thoughts of Bodie from his brain.

As the evening dwindled down, Doyle found himself looking for the sleek dark-haired man with the expressive blue eyes. Not seeing his new acquaintance, Doyle reckoned the bloke had left. A stab of disappointment jolted him, and he wondered, as yet another flash of – something -- washed over him. What was wrong with him tonight? First he'd got a fine set of goose bumps thinking about Bodie, and now he felt a sense of loss when he couldn't locate him. Daft, that.

Doyle escaped the confines of the flat and wandered outside into the back garden for a breath of fresh air. He almost tripped over the legs stretched out in the garden path.

"Bloody hell," a voice groused. "Sorry!"

Strong hands grabbed hold of Doyle, keeping him upright. When Doyle finally caught his balance, he saw that his saviour was none other than Bodie.

"It's okay. Hey." Doyle wasn't put off when Bodie's hands kept hold of his elbows. In fact, the firm grip gave him a sudden sense of security. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Nah. Was my fault. Lounging on the garden bench in the dark is odd." Bodie grinned. "Had enough?" He cocked his head towards the flat.

"Needed space. Thought you'd gone."

"Couldn't. Not yet." Before Doyle could ask about that strange statement, Bodie had said, "Nice out tonight. Bit crisp, but look at the stars!" He tipped his head back to look up.

Doyle followed suit, yet he stayed within the circle of Bodie's arms. In fact, surprising himself, his own hands reached out to rest on Bodie's shoulders. "Really beautiful. Further out into the country side, you can see more stars."

Bodie's arms tightened slightly. "Too many city lights about to see many. Still, it's a gorgeous night."

Doyle smiled. When he looked at his companion, Bodie wasn't looking up any longer. His gaze held Doyle's. "Gorgeous. Absolutely, wonderfully beautiful."

"Eh?" Doyle watched Bodie give his head a small shake and drop his hands. Doyle immediately moved his, and stepped back. "Sorry."

"What for?"

Doyle shrugged. "Don't know. Something..."

Bodie's eyebrow lifted. "What?"

Doyle took in Bodie's expectant look. "Have we met before?" He was taken aback when all emotion quickly fled from Bodie's face. He took on the look of a cold marble statue. Bodie stepped back even farther. Puzzled, Doyle pressed on. "What's wrong? What is it?"

Bodie stood still for a long moment before he visibly relaxed. "Nothing. One of those déjà vu moments, that's all. No, we haven't met before, but I'm glad we've met now."

With a smile, Doyle said, "Are you now? Why's that?"

"You seem like a good bloke."

"You hardly know me."

"You're a copper, right? There must be a few good coppers."

Doyle's own eyebrow rose. "Now that's cynical, isn't it?"

Bodie shrugged. "Don't have much use for most coppers."

"Criminal, eh?"

Bodie looked affronted. "Not hardly. Tell me about yourself."

"Like what?"

"What do you like to do on your off hours?"

"I don't have many off hours."

"She keeps you on a short leash, eh?"

Doyle glared. "Ann's a good person."

"Sorry, sorry. Way out of line. But all women are the same. They want to call the shots. It's in their nature. I wasn't belittling her. Apology accepted?"

Doyle paused before he nodded. "Okay." He glanced up again before he looked at Bodie and shrugged. "She's not much into pubs or darts or poker."

"Or cricket or football, eh?"

"No. Likes opera and the theatre."

Bodie shuddered theatrically. "Fancy a game of darts at my local some time? I'm looking for a partner who's up to my standards."

They both laughed.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

"Me, too. What about you?"

Doyle grinned, quickly reaching out to throw a playful punch at Bodie's midsection. Bodie turned aside quickly. Doyle's knuckles smacked into something hard and unyielding.

"Ow! What the hell...?" Doyle's eyes narrowed. "You're carrying a gun? Tell me you're not a thug. You're not a hit man, are you? No, not you. Couldn't be."

Bodie stepped closer. "Sure of that, are you?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Don't know."

"A hunch, eh?"

"Yeah. A hunch."

Bodie moved even closer. Close enough to huff a warm breath on Doyle's face. "I'm not a criminal. I'm a civil servant."

That made Doyle snort with amusement. "Sure you are. Like I buy that." They looked directly at each other. "You're with that new mob. CI5!"

"How'd you know that?"

"Heard about them."

"Interested?"

"Very."

"You should see if they'll take you on."

"Thought they sought out the likely ones, not the other way 'round."

"Yeah. Suppose."

They stood barely a few inches apart now. Doyle let himself look at Bodie's mouth. The set of his lips, the slight dip in the upper one. He was close enough to smell Bodie's fragrance. Old Spice and something else: Bodie himself, crisp, clean. Doyle licked his own lips and his breathing quickened.

"Doyle..."

Mouth open to respond, he didn't get to say anything. Bodie's mouth covered his. He was pulled into strong arms and his lips taken in a kiss. He met the passionate kiss equally. Some small portion of his brain was surprised at his reactions, yet it felt so right. Bodie felt so right. Tasted so good. Desires buried deep inside surfaced, bubbled up and over. Doyle's hands clamped around Bodie's neck, encouraging him to move even closer until their bodies pressed against their lengths, tongues delving...

"Ray!" Ann's sharp voice cut the air.

Doyle gasped, stumbling back from Bodie's hold to press his hand against his mouth. He knew he looked as guilty as he felt at that moment. Blinking quickly, he caught Bodie's look.

Bodie never moved, grinning at Doyle like he was the cat that got the cream. After a sly wink, the berk had the audacity to shove his hands casually into his pockets. He tilted his head, glancing at Doyle and gave a jaunty bow.

"Good night, sunshine. Ann, ta for the party. Good evening." With a definite twinkle in his eyes, he sauntered out of the garden by the back gate and disappeared, swallowed by the dark of the night.

Doyle turned to face the wrath of his girlfriend.

\-------------------------------------

October, 1976

 _"...so you see, sunshine, we've met before. Only I'm sure you've long forgotten about you and me, and that starry night, and that garden. But I'll never forget, the same way I'll remember the taste of you, the touch of your lips on mine, the way you felt in my arms..."_

Bodie growled impatiently and balled the paper between shaking hands. What was wrong with him? He was mooning worse than a blushing virgin in some steamy romance novel. God help him, but he was losing it.

He threw the paper across the room, where it bounced off the wall and skittered under the dining table. He heard the quick pattering of feet and in moments, Her Highness came out from under the table, batting the paper ball in front of her. After she felt the item was sufficiently dead, she launched herself on it and proceeded to disembowel it.

"Silly git," he said affectionately. The Queen merely flicked an ear and waved her plush tail. She sauntered off now that her prey was dead.

Pulling a fresh leaf of paper to him, Bodie started again:

 _"Doyle, mate, if you recall your birthday of '76, then you might remember that we met on that auspicious occasion. I've wondered if you remembered me. Well, I'm the bloke who surely caused discord in your relationship that night! Mind if I ask what happened to you and the pretty red-headed bird? If I'm being too nosy, well, do tell anyway. Enquiring minds want to know. I'm off. Bodie._

 _\-------------------------_

 _"Oh, Christ! That was you! Why didn't I know? How could I not remember? Don't run off in a huff. It's not that you weren't memorable! God, Bodie, it was all I thought about for days and days. Ann was so angry! I should tell you that she knew I was bisexual, but I'd sworn to her that I wasn't attracted to any other person, man or woman, and that I loved her. And I did. Honestly, I thought I was in love with her. Until I met you. I guess I truly did cheat on her with that kiss, Bodie, because after that, I couldn't stay with her. I couldn't! Not after having that little bit of you. (Your ego is now firmly enlarged a thousand times the usual, I reckon.)_

 _It never occurred to me that you could be the same Bodie. I'd met a few other blokes over the years with the surname Bodie. Arrested one once, so that wasn't the tip-off for me._

 _Yes, I remember you. Vividly. Happily._

 _But Bodie, I had to put you out of my mind. I had to! I didn't know how to find you, or anything else about you. I did look. I went through records, but the several Bodies I found were not you. And I admit, I put you out of my mind after that because (this is going to sound cowardly, but I can't help it!), frankly, it hurt too much to think about you. Jesus, I'm spilling my guts here. I'm pathetic. But if I can't tell you, then who can I tell? From the tone of your latest note, it wasn't nearly as important to you as it was to me. But you know, that's all right. It was what it was to me, and to you. I never expected you to feel the same as me. I never believed in love at first sight, but when I met you, I knew. From that moment when you said hello, I knew I was deeply, passionately in love with you. When you kissed me..._

 _I remember that kiss. I'll never forget it._

 _Doyle_

 _PS. If I've gone over the top with this and you're put off, I understand. You're under no obligation to ever respond to my pitiful ramblings. God, Bodie, I still love you. Shit, shit, shit... I'm so sorry! I should throw this letter away, but I can't. I have to tell somebody. I have to tell you. I'm still in love with you. I am pathetic..._

 _\-----------------------------_

 _Doyle, stop! You're not pathetic or stupid or daft. I feel the same way. What do you say we take a chance? Let's meet. Tomorrow, November 1st. Eight pm at The Camel. B._

 _\-----------------------------_

 _Bodie, you'll have to wait two years! I'll only have to wait one day. It's not fair._

 _Yes! God, yes, if you're willing. I don't deserve this. You're doing all the work here. I have to walk into The Camel tomorrow night at eight. I'll be the bloke with the red shirt on. As well as the moronic grin. D._

 _\-----------------------------_

 _It's a date. B. PS. Do wear trousers as well._

\-----------------------------

November 1, 1978

Doyle arrived at the pub an hour early. He was so nervous he couldn't sit at home any longer. After he'd ordered a beer, he sat at the bar, making sure he could see the door. His thoughts quickly went back to the day before. It was absolutely amazing! Utterly unbelievable.

He'd stood on the front steps of Bodie's house and watched with awe as his notes disappeared and Bodie's appeared. Even the clink of the letter box made him jerk with surprise. How was this possible?

No matter. Tonight, he and Bodie would meet again. Tonight! Doyle sipped his beer and tapped his fingers on his thigh. Come on, Bodie. The minute hand crept around the clock's face. Eight o'clock! And as time was wont to do, it marched on. Half eight. Eight forty five. Nine o'clock. Doyle fidgeted on his stool. With a fresh glass, he found a table and waited... and waited...

Last orders came, then closing time. He had no choice but to leave. Disappointed beyond belief, Doyle headed out with a heavy heart.

\-----------------------------

 _Dear Bodie: I think it's about time we accept the inevitable. There's nothing we can do about this sodding mess. We tried, but you can't cross time, not even for good reasons. I waited and waited, but you didn't come. So if you were at the pub in your time, know that I was there in mine. For what it's worth, we gave it a solid try. Now it's time to face facts._

 _Ta for being a good mate, but this is too painful for me. I can't do this any more, so I'm going to have to ask you not to try and find me again. Some things aren't meant to be._

 _Life is so fragile! And life isn't fair. Bloody hell, mate, I remember sitting in Stepney Green Park with my partner, Syd. It was bleedin' St. Valentine's Day and a man was killed in a traffic mishap not a hundred yards from me! Dead in seconds. His family, his friends, his co-workers will never see him again. They won't hear his voice or see his smile or listen to his jokes._

 _Please, I'm asking you, I'm begging you, don't try to find me. Go on and live your life, and know that I care for you. I wish you the best, mate. Have a good life!_

 _Yours as ever, Doyle._

\------------------------------

November 2, 1976

"No!" Bodie said sharply, ripping the letter in half and threw it down. "Doyle, please, no..." Still, Bodie knew that he couldn't change what had happened. He couldn't explain why he wasn't with Doyle last night. He would have waited the two years, as he'd told Doyle. He knew he would. He had every intention of doing all the right things, yet seemingly fate still stood in his way.

Why that was, he hadn't a clue.

Depressed now, Bodie leaned down to pick up the letter. He slowly made his way into the kitchen where he rummaged in a drawer for Sellotape. He carefully taped the two halves of the letter back together, smoothing out the wrinkles. A sigh escaped his lips as he made his way to his bedroom. From the bottom of his wardrobe, he carefully stored Doyle's final letter along with every other one Doyle had written. With a final glance at the letters piled inside, he returned the box to its resting place. He rubbed his nose before sinking on to the bed.

He felt so alone. His eyes prickled and he was surprised that he actually felt like crying. With a bitter laugh at himself, he scrubbed at his eyes until they burned. A small furry bundle landed on the bed beside him and Her Royal Highness stepped up on his stomach. She proceeded to walk on him as if she owned him.

"Hey, Puss," Bodie said, stroking the soft fur. "You weigh a ton, you know." He scratched behind her left ear. "Guess it's you and me, lass. God damn it, anyway."

Bodie lay on the bed for a long time until the shadows in the room lengthened. The Queen made it clear that it was her dinnertime. Bodie rose from the bed to feed the cat and to find that bottle of Scotch he'd been saving. It was put to good use in short order.

\-------------------------------

February 14, 1980

"Ray, you can't possibly go to this interview dressed like that! Go and put on a tie."

The look Ann gave him made Doyle sigh. She thought he didn't present himself properly, but he wasn't a suit-and-tie sort of bloke. You'd think she'd have known that by now. After all, they'd lived together for what? Almost two years.

Two years. Ever since he'd accepted his fate. Ever since he'd stopped thinking about him. Fuck. Sometimes, his name still crept into Doyle's brain. Bodie. But Doyle stomped on the wayward thoughts as quickly as they came. No sense dwelling on what he couldn't have; what could never be. He had Ann now, and she said she loved him.

It had to be enough.

It had to be.

"Sweetheart, I'll be all right. Cowley's spoken to me twice already. This is the meet that'll formalise him taking me on."

"I'm still not sure I like you working for that sort, Ray," Ann said with a sniff of disdain. "From what I've heard, they're nothing more than a bunch of thugs."

"Ann." Doyle felt his temper rising. "We've had this talk, and I'm done with it."

"But Ray," Ann said softly, batting her eyelashes and rubbing a hand up his arm, "maybe it's best if you take up Elias' business offer. It's much more civilised. You'd earn a good deal more than you will with CI5." She moved closer. The scent of her perfume tickled his nose. Her lips made a sweet pout.

Doyle smiled as he took her hand in his. "Ann, love, I'm not that sort. You know how much I like law enforcement, and since Syd... is gone." He choked for a moment before he got himself under control. "I'll fit in with this mob. This -- CI5 -- is my sort. If you can't accept that..." He dropped her hand, turning away. "I can't be what you want, Ann. Maybe we should-"

"No!" Ann wrapped her arms around his waist; her grip tightened. "I love you, Ray. I want to be with you. I've accepted that you are a lowly civil servant."

Doyle shook his head slowly. Would he ever be truly happy settling for Ann? And why didn't he love her as he should? She was beautiful. Poised. She should be exactly what he wanted, and yet….

 _Stop this, damn you!_

Doyle turned in the circle of her arms. He kissed her nose. "I'm off or I'll be late. Love you."

"I do love you."

They kissed briefly before Doyle grabbed up his jacket and headed for his meeting with George Cowley.

\-------------------------------

"Sign here... and here. Good. Welcome to the A Squad, Doyle."

Doyle rose and shook hands with his new controller. "Thank you, sir."

"There will be a briefing for new recruits this afternoon at 4 pm sharp."

"Yes, sir."

"Betty will provide you with official identification. She'll also get the paperwork in order for you to check out a car from the motor pool. She'll assign you a flat."

"Yes, sir. Excuse me. My girlfriend isn't quite pleased about me being assigned my own flat."

"Is this going to be a problem? All agents are assigned secure flats. It's for your protection as well as the organisation. The location is not to be disclosed to anyone who hasn't been cleared unless I give the okay."

"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. It won't be a problem."

"The woman you're seeing hasn't been fully vetted yet, so until then, she's not to be given access to your living quarters. We have to keep our operatives safe. I'm sure you and the young lady understand the need for security."

Doyle's gaze met Cowley's. His controller expected his orders to be followed immediately, and Doyle, for some odd reason, wanted this man to be proud of him. After all, he had explained CI5's policy to Ann. She hadn't been happy about that, along with most of the other rules and regulations associated with the organisation. But Doyle wanted this.

"I understand. Thank you, Mr Cowley."

"Go on then. Go and introduce yourself around. I'll speak with you later today."

"Sir." Doyle turned to leave.

"Oh, and Doyle?"

"Sir?" He turned back around.

"Henceforth you're assigned the designation, 4.5. Be sure Betty gives you a chit for an r/t from Property. Keep it with you at all times."

"Yes, sir."

"Doyle, turned to the 'on' position." Cowley looked stern.

Doyle grinned. "Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

"Sir." Doyle walked to the door. On the wall, he spotted a framed photograph. Something caught his eye, making him inspect the picture. He actually held his breath as he leaned in closer.

"Oh, God."

"Something the matter, 4.5?"

"This bloke... One with the dark hair. I know him." Doyle examined the picture again. A group of men stood looking at the camera. Five in all. One he recognised as Cowley. The other...

Bodie. His Bodie. It had to be.

Cowley came out from behind his desk, wiping his glasses with a handkerchief he had pulled from his pocket.

"Ah, yes. One of my best men. I still miss the arrogant bastard."

"Miss?" Doyle blurted out. "He's dead?" A cold sweat broke out on his body.

"Oh, aye. Unfortunately, and not even in the line of duty. Such a shame. The waste of a good man. Solid agent, if he did try my patience at times. Bodie had a-"

"Bodie."

"Yes, Bodie." Cowley's gaze appraised him. "So you did know him."

Doyle swallowed harshly. "When...?"

"Two years ago. Today, in fact. An unfortunate anniversary."

"Today?"

"Come on, lad, you look like you've had a shock."

Doyle didn't move, even when Cowley pressed a glass into his hand.

"Here. Drink this."

Doyle automatically drank then coughed harshly. After catching his breath, he asked, "Scotch, sir?"

"Aye. A good malt, mind you. I don't appreciate when somebody tosses it back like so much cheap drink." Cowley put a hand on Doyle's shoulder. "Now off with you."

Finally able to move, Doyle handed back the glass. "Thank you, sir."

He made his way out of the office like some sort of automaton to speak to Betty. Somehow he managed to get his identification, r/t and keys to a motor from the car pool. A quick glance at the clock told him that he still had six hours until the scheduled briefing. Might as well head to the rest room for a cup of coffee or tea. At the thought of food, his stomach roiled. He made his way down the corridor on lead feet.

Bodie was dead? He couldn't wrap his mind around the concept. Even now, he didn't want to believe it was possible.

God, no. Please, not Bodie. He should be having a fulfilling life somewhere, happy and alive. Not dead. Not Bodie.

Once in the rest room, Doyle sank into a chair. Several other agents spoke to him. He knew he should respond, but a sadness so profound that he couldn't speak gripped him. Terrified that if he opened his mouth, nothing but a sob would escape, he kept it firmly closed. Kept his eyes downcast. He was mortified that if he broke down here and now, he'd never be able to look any of his fellow agents in the eye. Berating himself for his weakness, Doyle got a grip on himself. He had to be strong. He made himself look up, a nonchalant look on his face. A quick glance told him that one of his new co-workers was staring at him.

"Sorry," Doyle said before he admitted, "I found out that an old mate of mine is dead."

"Murphy." The man rose. He held out his hand.

"Doyle."

"Sorry about your friend. One of my friends, my partner in fact, died two years ago today, so I understand. It's never easy, is it? Why is it that the good ones go too soon?" Murphy plugged in the kettle. "Bodie was a good bloke."

"Bodie? You knew Bodie?"

Murphy nodded, dropping a tea bag into a cup. He held up another bag towards Doyle. "Cup?"

"Yeah, thanks." Doyle stood up to move closer to the table. "Two years ago today. Wait. Today is February 14th. St. Valentine's Day, right?"

"Sure is, mate. You knew Bodie as well?"

"Yeah, I knew him." What was it? Something niggled at him, slightly out of reach. What? Then it hit him. "Oh, God." Doyle leaned back, his entire body shaking. "Today. Two years ago today," he whispered. "February 14, 1978. That night, I waited. But that's why. That's why he didn't come to the pub!"

"Eh?" Murphy said, looking confused.

Doyle reached out and grabbed Murphy's arm. "That's why!" He didn't bother to explain. How could he? Not when he finally figured it out for himself right at that second. Not that he could explain it anyway.

He ran for the door.

\-------------------------

February 14, 1978

"God, that was a rough night." Bodie stretched his aching muscles. He reached his arms high over his head and twisted at the waist before he bent from side to side.

"Tea or coffee?" Murphy asked, holding up the kettle.

"Neither, mate. I've got to get home and get my head down before I keel over." Bodie yawned hugely into his hand. "That was one of the most boring stake outs I've ever been on. Christ, not a creature to be seen for forty-eight hours. I'm so knackered I don't know if I can sleep."

Murphy laughed. "What time is it?"

"Just gone nine."

"In the morning?"

"Smart man. You noticed," Bodie said. "Happens when the sun comes up. Night is when the sun goes down. Generally that's the way it's supposed to work."

"Ha-bloody-ha. Go on, then. Get your sorry arse out of here. I've got to stop to buy Ginger a pressie or she'll kill me if I come home empty-handed."

"Almost forgot her birthday, eh?" Bodie smirked, jabbing Murphy's arm.

"No, berk. It's the 14th. Bloody Valentine's Day. You know how birds are. If you don't shower them with flowers and chocolates on Valentine's Day, they think you don't love 'em." Murphy shook his head in disgust. "Women."

"Could try men. We don't expect flowers." Bodie chuckled. "Not often."

Murphy raised an eyebrow. "You're a bad influence on me, mate. Are you offering?"

Bodie laughed before he suddenly paused. "Did you say today was St. Valentine's Day?"

Murphy cast him a cold eye. "You are definitely knackered. Yeah, that's what I said. Ten minutes ago."

"February 14th, 1978."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Jesus, but it's Valentine's Day!" Bodie shook Murphy's arms. "Fucking 1978!"

"Bodie!"

"Sorry, mate!" Bodie called over his shoulder, already sprinting for the door. He made it out to his car in record time.

Amid the squeal of tyres, Bodie headed towards home. Along the way he broke most of the traffic laws to get there in record time. Jamming on the brakes, the Capri came to a screeching halt in the middle of the street. Bodie flung open the car door and raced up the steps. With fumbling fingers, he somehow managed to unlock the front door. In moments, he was on the floor of his bedroom with the box from the bottom of the wardrobe in his hands. At the bed, he dumped the contents out on the counterpane.

His hands shook as he quickly scanned the letters until he found the one he needed. Doyle's strong penmanship danced before his eyes: _...Life is so fragile! And life isn't fair. Bloody hell, mate, I remember sitting in Stepney Green Park with my partner Syd. It was bleedin' St. Valentine's Day and a man was killed in a traffic mishap not a hundred yards from me! Dead in seconds..._

Stepney Green! Today Doyle would be sitting in that park. Today, February 14th. Sodding 1978! And by God, Bodie was determined to go to that park. He would finally be in the same bloody time dimension with Raymond Doyle. He'd see Doyle if it was the last thing he ever did.

"I swear it." He jammed the letter into his pocket.

Bodie ran for his car.

\----------------------------------

February 14, 1980

Doyle had never driven so fast or so recklessly in his life. Even a couple of close calls didn't slow him down. Somehow, he made it to Bonner Road in one piece without hurting another driver or a single pedestrian. The car he'd been issued, a white Ford Escort, slid to a halt when he jammed his foot down down on the brake pedal. The front tyres slammed into the kerb and the entire car shook as he leapt from the driver's seat, pen and pad of paper already in hand.

At the top of the steps, Doyle could barely write. The pen poked a hole into the paper. He let out an anguished groan. Scrubbing his left eye with a knuckle, Doyle sucked in a long breath. After a moment, he slowly released it before he took a fresh piece of paper from his notebook. Sitting down on the step, Doyle wrote:

 _Please, Bodie, please, please, please. Don't try to find me! Don't go to Stepney Green Park today. Please, I'm begging you. Please, Bodie, wait. Wait two years. Wait for me. God, Bodie, if I ever meant anything to you, do this for me. Please, Bodie. Wait. If you ever loved me, wait two years. Don't try and find me now. Today. Don't do it! Christ, mate, please..._

 _In two years, Bodie, two years, come to our house. Come to Bonner Road. I'm waiting for you there. D._

Doyle folded the note and stuffed it into the letterbox. He walked backwards four steps to lean on the opposite wall.

He waited.

\---------------------------------

February 14, 1978

Traffic was heavy, so he parked a couple of streets away from Stepney Green Park and walked quickly. Bodie waited on the kerb for the traffic to pass, his eyes scanning the park. There! On one of the park benches, he saw Doyle. Even from a distance, Doyle looked good. His brown hair glinted in the bright sunlight, bringing out the auburn highlights. That slim frame lounged on the park bench, book in hand, legs stretched out in front of him. An older man sat beside him. Doyle smiled at him and as they chatted, Bodie grinned. From Doyle's notes, this must be his partner, Syd.

Finally! Today, he'd finally be with Doyle. He took a step forward, then another. His hand went into his pocket. His fingers gripped the note he'd yanked from the letter box as he'd pasted it by. The note he had managed to tear open and read while he careened across London.

With a sigh, he once again read the pleading words. From the way Doyle had written, Bodie could tell he was upset. His usual steady hand was a mess, and the words... The words were so desperate:

 _Please, Bodie. Wait. If you ever loved me, wait two years. Don't try and find me now. Today. Don't do it. Christ, mate, please..._

Bodie knew Doyle wouldn't beg unless it was dire. Bodie had faith in Doyle. God help him, but for some reason he had faith in a man he barely knew. He loved a man he'd only kissed once; a man he'd spoken to for thirty minutes two years ago. But his heart told him he was doing the right thing.  
He looked over at Doyle yet again, his foot poised to step forward. He paused. A bus lumbered past, blocking his line of vision. The bus finally passed and he kept his gaze firmly fixed on Doyle. He took in a shuddering breath before he slowly exhaled. Then, he did as Doyle had asked. He turned and walked away.

\------------------------------------------

February 14, 1980

Doyle never moved a muscle. He stayed rooted to his spot on the front steps of 88 Bonner Road even after the letter he'd put into the letterbox had disappeared before his eyes. He breathed in and out, but otherwise, he remained still.

And he waited.

\--------------------------------------------

February 14, 1980

 _In two years, Bodie, two years, come to our house. Come to Bonner Road. I'm waiting for you there._

Bodie drove like the devil was biting his arse. He ran two traffic lights, grateful that he made it through the road junctions in one piece. He felt a huge wave of relief when he was only a mile from Bonner Road. He had to hurry. Suddenly, a siren sounded behind him. Fuck.

He glanced in the mirror, moving over towards the side of the road. The police car raced by him. The coppers never looked his way. Relief again as he floored the accelerator. He had to get home.

At the next corner, he executed a perfect full-on right hand turn, sure that the Capri was on two wheels for a long moment.

The car righted itself with a shudder of metal and kept going. Bodie chortled, patting the vehicle's dashboard. "Good lass. Now hurry!"

Now he was within half a mile of his home... a quarter of a mile. His hand touched the letter tucked safely into his pocket. He'd waited. It had been hard, but he'd waited. And now, today, right this moment, it was time. He felt it down to his marrow. Doyle was waiting for him.

\----------------

Doyle heard the over-revved whine of the car's engine. It was with his heart in his throat that he saw the gold vehicle skid to a halt.

A man climbed from the car. Dark hair, blue eyes...

Their gazes met. Bodie's face broke into a huge grin.

"Bodie!" Doyle called out, running to the kerb.

"Doyle!" Bodie didn't bother closing the car door, but in two strides, he was close to Doyle.

They stood, inches apart, grinning like fools. Neither man spoke, but they looked their fill for a full minute.

"I waited!"

"You waited!"

They spoke at once before breaking out into laughter. Doyle ached to reach out. He could see Bodie's hand twitch with the same desire.

"Inside." Bodie tugged on Doyle's sleeve. With a firm hold, he walked quickly to the front door, never releasing his grip on Doyle's shirt. When the door opened hard enough to hit the wall with a thud, Bodie hauled him into the entry hall.

Doyle kicked the front door shut. In moments, he was in Bodie's arms. Their lips met, hard and rough, and they clutched each other. Hunger ran deep through Doyle's body. He pressed against Bodie, determined to climb down his throat, if possible.

Bodie's hands gripped his hair almost painfully. Doyle moaned into Bodie's mouth, thrusting his tongue in fiercely.

Only the need to breathe broke the kiss. Bodie's eyes were black with desire when Doyle looked into them. Doyle cupped Bodie's cheek with his hand. They stood still, panting as if they'd both run a hard-won race.

"You're here," Doyle finally said. "Thank God, you're here."

"How did this happen?" Bodie's eyebrow rose. "I'm not sure what's going on."

"I don't care." Doyle moved in closer and this time, his kiss was firm but gentle. He brushed his lips against Bodie's before he pulled away far enough to speak. "We have to talk."

"Later." Bodie grinned, catching Doyle's hand. At the top of the stairs, he led Doyle to the main bedroom where they stopped before the large bed. "Okay?"

"Christ, yes."

"Your bird?"

"I'm a free man. No ties. Well, except-"

"What? Worried this isn't real? It is."

"Bodie, is that my book?" Doyle picked up the worn paperback from the lamp table. The Hobbit. "This is my book! You have my book. The one I left years ago at the tube station!"

"It's the one you've been reading, haven't you? Most nights when you have a few minutes before you fall asleep."

"I have?" Doyle read the inscription and ran his finger over the fading ink. "I have, haven't I? It's the one you rescued for me, and it's the one that I've read right here. In our bed. How is that possible?"

"Don't think any more, Ray. Don't question it. Somehow... somehow we did it! Come here. Let me touch you." Bodie held out his hands in invitation.

Doyle nodded. Bodie's fingers worked at his clothing. He returned the favour, trembling fingers stripping his -- lover? Yeah, lover. Soul mate. He took off Bodie's jacket, shirt and vest, tossing them on the floor. The jacket hit with a dull thud. Fleetingly he wondered about the sound, but Bodie's hands were on him. Rational thought fled.

"You're as fantastic as I remember." Bodie kissed an exposed nipple.

"Ah! Oh... You're bloody gorgeous." Doyle ran the palms of both hands down Bodie's almost hairless chest. "Soft in some spots." He nipped at the juncture of Bodie's neck. "Hard in others." He palmed the front of Bodie's trousers, holding his cock through the corduroy material.

"Jesus, Doyle." Bodie's eyes narrowed and his mouth opened. "Never going to last until my trousers are off, let alone my underpants!"

"It's all right. First times, and all. Get the edge off before we'll start all over again."

"Planning on doing this again, are we?"

"Fuck, yeah."

"Doyle." Bodie's hand circled Doyle's wrist, stilling it.

"What?" Doyle gave Bodie's nipple a parting lick before he raised his head. "You all right?"

"We barely know each other, yet we've been doing this for years."

"I know you. I've known you since forever."

Bodie grinned. "We're together. It's you and me... We're together." The awe crept from Bodie's words. His smile never dimmed. "So you know me? Do tell."

"You're strong," Doyle kissed Bodie's chin, "and brave," another kiss on his nose, "and resourceful," one in the centre of his forehead, "and I've known you for a thousand years."

"Eh? Sure of me, are you?" At Doyle's approving grin, Bodie laughed. "My turn. You're smart," he licked Doyle's nipple, "and tough," he undid the button to his jeans and slipped a hand inside, "and - fucking big for a skinny bloke!"

Doyle sucked in a shaky breath as Bodie carefully extracted his cock from his trousers. "Good genes. Healthy diet." Doyle's voice almost broke on the last word as Bodie's fingers worked their magic. "Bodie!" All he could do under Bodie's touch was shudder and come over his lover's fingers. For the first time, and yet... He'd been touched by Bodie many times before, with love, with passion, rough and ready, soft and tender.

"Bloody hell." Doyle shook his head. "Made me come like a school boy. Prat He grinned. "My turn." With a shove, Bodie went backwards to land splayed out on the bed. Doyle was on him in moments. He had Bodie's cock drawn out and in his mouth before Bodie could say, "Jesus!"

Bodie shuddered, gripped Doyle's head and tried to push him off. Doyle reached out to smack Bodie's hand. He sucked harder. Bodie came with a shout.

"Oh, my God." Bodie struggled up to sit on the end of the mattress.

Doyle sat on the floor, limp cock hanging out, hair a mess, he was sure, and with the biggest smile he'd ever felt plastered on his face. "I enjoyed that."

Bodie grinned. "Come here, you."

Doyle was in his arms. They kissed again and again. Slowly this time, tasting, touching.

"Clothes."

"Eh?" Bodie nibbled Doyle's neck.

"Take 'em off."

"You as well-" The muffled sound of an annoying beep made Doyle pause. "What's that? Is that your r/t?"

"Fuck. Yeah. It's in my jacket." Bodie slipped from the bed and fumbled through the discarded clothing. As he searched, the instrument chirped again. He glanced at Doyle as he thumbed his r/t on, tossing out an apologetic shrug. "3.7."

"This is Alpha one. Is 4.5 with you?"

Their gazes met, sure knowledge quickly replaced the momentary surprise. "Yes, sir."

"Report in immediately."

"Yes, sir."

"I mean immediately, 3.7."

"Understood, sir. Out."

"Report in? Report into HQ? Wait..."

"Can't. No time. Get decent and get a move on. The old man speaks; we must obey." Bodie cast Doyle a toothy grin, kissed him on the lips and pulled on his vest.

"We're partners."

Bodie's head appeared out from under the white cloth. "For better or worse."

"We've been partners for two years." Doyle didn't even bother trying not to sound shocked, but even as he spoke, he knew the truth of his words.

"'Till death do us part."

"In CI5. You and me. On the A Squad. And Cowley's our lord and master."

"You're so intelligent sometimes, Raymundo, I'm absolutely gobsmacked."

"Smart mouth. But... but..."

"Sunshine, don't let it worry your pretty head." Bodie picked up his jacket as well as Doyle's shirt, which he tossed into Doyle's face. "Loo first, then I'm ready to go. Move it!" Laughing, he ruffled Doyle's hair.

Doyle shrugged into the t-shirt as he followed Bodie to the bathroom. He stood in the doorway, still thoroughly confused. "We're lovers."

"Doyle, are you all right?"

"We spent years writing each other letters, dreaming about being together. We had sex, and now we're reporting for duty to Cowley."

"Right." Bodie splashed water on his face.

"And none of this strikes you as strange?" Doyle knew he sounded like a moron, but what the hell had happened? Had he imagined all those years? What about the letters?

"Ray." Bodie put a hand on either side of his face, commanding his full attention. "Whatever had to happen... has happened. You're here. I'm here. We're together. I have a shoe box that was full of letters that you wrote and put in my-- our -- letter box. But you know what?" Doyle shook his head. "I'm not going to risk pissing on Fate. I'm never touching that box again. Tonight or tomorrow, whenever we're back here, I'm having my own personal Bonfire Night, and they're the offering."

"You're willing to accept this? That we've done it? Got what we wanted?" Doyle looked into the blue eyes that he truly loved.

"Yes, I am. And do you know why?"

"Tell me."

"Because we belong together, you nutter. We did it. We changed time."

Doyle smiled. So Bodie knew what had happened. He was willing to accept their Fate. Being together was what counted. "Yeah. Yeah, we did, didn't we."

"So let's get a move on before Cowley chews us up and spits us out. Or worse, sends us on that sodding stake-out in The Docks instead of Anson and Murphy."

"God, that is a fate worse than death!" Doyle planted a quick kiss on Bodie's mouth. "Hurry up. What are you waiting for?" He gave Bodie a playful punch on the arm, sweeping up his jacket from the bedroom floor as he passed by. "Always dropping me in it with your layabout ways!" Doyle took off, running down the hall and clattering down the steps with Bodie on his heels. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs only long enough to retrieve his holster and weapon from the hall table. As he put them on, Bodie did the same. Together, they went out the front door.

Doyle wasn't surprised to see his white Capri waiting at the kerb with Bodie's gold one right behind it. Well, not shocked much, he reckoned. "I'm driving!"

"No, you're not. I'm driving."

"You drove yesterday."

"Did not. Your mind is going in your old age, mate."

"I'm not that much older than you!" Doyle pulled his keys from his coat. "Besides, you've forgot your keys." He ignored Bodie's sound of protest, opened the driver's door and then paused, looking over the roof at his partner. Bodie's gaze caught his and he smiled. "I'm glad you're here."

Bodie gave him the most brilliant smile in return. Doyle liked it when Bodie's eyes lit up and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He liked it when Bodie's full attention was on him, like now. And he liked what he saw in Bodie's face. Love and caring and friendship and commitment...

"Where else would I be?"

Bodie's tone was suddenly serious. Doyle couldn't help but smile at the bit of exasperation that rested in those words. Where else indeed. The feeling Bodie put into the simple statement made Doyle choke up. He took a moment to clear his throat. Jesus, he was emotional today. He purposefully put all the caring he felt for Bodie into his smile. He hoped it was enough, and that Bodie understood.

"Right here, mate. Right where you belong."

"Go on, then." Bodie nodded. "Unlock this sodding door before Cowley has me balls in a twist."

Laughing, Doyle climbed into the driver's seat and leaned over, letting his partner in. "What about my bollocks?"

"Cheers." Bodie touched Doyle's arm.

Doyle checked his mirror. Before he released the clutch pedal, he paused.

"Bodie?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you believe all of what happened?"

Bodie's gaze caught his. They both sat silently for a long moment before Bodie said, "Do you love me?"

"Eh?" Doyle felt himself blush. In the light of day, that question seemed so brash. So out in the open. Blokes didn't speak of love in the bright light of day. Not with another fellow. But why not? He did love Bodie.

Worried that he'd paused too long when he saw Bodie glance away, his lips a thin, tight line, Doyle turned in his seat. "I do. Very much."

Bodie sat silently for a moment before he cast Doyle a quick smile. "This is what we deserve. What we need. To get really sloppy, we belong together. I know what happened, but I don't know how or why."

"It wasn't a dream. It wasn't drugs or booze. You were living two years back. That much is true."

"It was true. It's not any longer. But before you pick it to death, no, I don't know how or why or what happened. I don't understand it, and you know what?" Doyle shook his head. "I don't bloody care! I'm willing to accept what we've been given. It's what I want. I reckon it's what you want as well. All right?"

Doyle put a hand on Bodie's shoulder. He felt his eyes fill with tears, but he didn't want to look like a berk in front of his best friend so he swallowed once before he smiled.

"All right."

Bodie's grin made him warm inside. He waved a hand towards the road. "Then drive on, Jeeves. We have a job to do."

A feeling of contentment hit Doyle. He felt himself once again get a trifle emotional. With a last grin at his partner, he started the engine. Before he pulled away from the kerb, something caught his eye. He looked over at the big house. On the top step sat Her Highness. She looked regal, sitting proud and straight, tail wrapped around her paws, as the sun danced on her sleek fur. She blinked lazily before she turned those huge green eyes directly on Doyle.

Doyle, for his part, couldn't keep the barmy grin from his face as he took in their cat. His gaze moved upwards to survey the huge old house. She did look grand sitting there, freshly painted. From where he sat, even the letter box looked shiny and new with its coat of black paint.

It was their house now. Even Cowley had approved the purchase after much pleading on their parts. Security issues were considered and resolved. They were proud owners of a house, a cat...

And each other.

With a contented sigh, Doyle drove on. With Bodie beside him. He knew he was right where he was supposed to be. Destiny was a grand thing.

After all, Doyle reckoned that he'd read all about it in a letter some place. Somewhere in time, he was sure.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was first published in the zine, Professional Adventures, in 2009. The cover art for this zine was created by the incomparable Enednoviel. The layout and colouring was done by the talented Ankaree. My story was originally edited by Ankaree, Lyn and Sally Fell. Thank you, my friends.
> 
> Thanks to moth2fic for giving this story another edit before this posting. All other mistakes are due to me messing around afterwards. :)
> 
> This is a film fic. It is based on the American film, The Lake House.


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